


Random Short Fics

by Sidoh



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 07:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10714863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sidoh/pseuds/Sidoh
Summary: Just a place to put unrelated drabbles/fics that are too short to deserve their own upload.





	Random Short Fics

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yoosung falls asleep on Seven's shoulder. Gen or Yoosung/Seven, rated PG.

Seven freezes when something hits his shoulder and a weight comes to rest against him. He doesn’t like admitting to being slightly jumpy, but both his childhood and his profession have taught him that sudden touches are usually bad news. Then he realises that the blond wisps of hair in his peripheral vision are much closer than before, tickling the side of his neck when Yoosung shifts in his sleep. He must have been pulling too many LOLOL all-nighters lately. Seven’s body relaxes, although he isn’t quite able to get his pulse under control.

The sound of an explosion vibrates through the room. Seven holds his breath, counting the seconds between each expansion of Yoosung’s chest while he watches the car on the screen go up in flames. When the pace remains the same, he slowly exhales. He reaches for the remote control and pauses the movie with more care than if he were trying to defuse a bomb. Only the sound of Yoosung’s calm, rhythmic breathing fills the room now.

The only spot where Seven can actually feel Yoosung’s skin pressing against his is where Yoosung’s pinky lightly brushes the side of his hand, but the touch buzzes through his veins like electricity, warming his entire body. He tries to recall the last time he experienced a more intimate touch than a brief handshake or an arm casually thrown around his shoulder for the sake of a photo. He can’t remember.

He squeezes his own thigh hard enough to leave a bruise, battling the urge to reach out and reciprocate. Not to take more than he’s given—just to brush his fingers through Yoosung’s hair, or maybe to rest his hand on top of his, just for a little while. But he can’t afford to be greedy like that, not if it might wake Yoosung. Instead, Seven closes his eyes and prays to God, if he’s willing to listen to such a trivial and selfish request, to make this last just a bit longer.

He isn’t sure how much time passes as he sits there, afraid to move while his breath slowly synchronizes with Yoosung’s. He keeps his eyes shut and concentrates on the weight and warmth of Yoosung’s body against his, trying to commit the feeling to memory before it’s over.

Yoosung stirs and yawns. A moment later, a single hair and a tiny drop of saliva on the rumpled sleeve of Seven’s hoodie are the only evidence it ever happened.

**Author's Note:**

> [my tumblr](https://sidohfic.tumblr.com/) (nsfw)


End file.
